Wicked Designs Page 16

  Ashton had been right. She’d enchanted him, and he hoped the spell lasted forever.

  When he and Ashton reached the manor, they abandoned their horses to a groom and went inside. A servant had dimmed the candles and the hall lay silent. A bloom of distant gold light brightened the path to the drawing room. Cigar smoke wafted down the hall towards Godric and Ashton.

  Emily was not with them. Even gentleman such as themselves never smoked in front of a lady.

  Godric and Ashton headed towards the room and found Cedric, Charles and Lucien lounging in wingback chairs near the fire. A gray cloud of cigar smoke hovered above their heads as they spoke in hushed tones and played cards.

  “You’re back.” Cedric looked relieved to see them.

  “It seems we have been missed.” Quiet concern laced Ashton’s tone.

  Godric didn’t like the sudden pitch of panic in his stomach. Had something happened to Emily?

  “I am almost afraid to ask, but where is Emily?” Godric’s heart was tight in his chest.

  “Don’t worry, Godric. She’s in her room, asleep. She has been since ten o’clock.”

  “Thank God for that. Excuse me.” Godric bid the others goodnight, desperate to reassure himself she was still there, still his.

  He sprinted up the stairs but slowed at Emily’s door. He tested the door handle of her room. It was unlocked. The fools! She could have snuck out without their knowledge.

  Stray beams of moonlight lit Emily’s room. The dark form of the young woman lay outlined on the bed. She was still fully dressed and looked as though she’d collapsed in exhaustion. Had she meant to wait up and fell asleep? A flicker of hope burned in his chest. He wanted it to be true.

  Godric hesitated before he summoned the courage to enter and lock the door. He reached down, removed his boots, and left them near the door.

  Padding softly to the bed he examined Emily. She seemed to be dreaming of happier days, with that soft expression on her face. He bent down carefully and brushed his lips over hers, not wishing to wake her, but she stirred all the same.

  “Godric?” she murmured, her eyes still shut.

  “Yes?” He knelt next to the bed as she opened her eyes.

  “You’re really back?”

  “Of course, my dear. I do live here, you understand.”

  She tried not to laugh. “Do you? I had no idea.” She flashed him an impish smile. “I wanted to be up when you returned, but I must have fallen asleep.” She reached out a hand to touch his cheek.

  Godric turned his lips towards the center of her palm, kissing it. “What did you do while I was away?” He wanted to know everything that she did and whether she missed him. He’d hated every minute he spent apart from her, and he wanted Emily to reassure him he wasn’t alone.

  He crossed his arms on the bed’s edge and rested his chin on them as she told him of her day, his chest filling with an odd warmth. Emily was an open book to him at times, but tonight her eyes were mysterious pools. He sank deeper and deeper into them, entrapped by the wondrous emotions reflected there.

  She wrinkled her nose and then smiled. Her hand toyed with his cravat absently as she gazed at him, wide eyes dark as diamonds, veiled by midnight shadows.

  “And you? How was your trip to London?” Her question left Godric with a smile.

  “Pleasant enough, but…”

  “But?”

  But I missed you terribly, he wanted to say, but the words choked and died somewhere between his throat and his lips.

  “It doesn’t matter. I bought you some presents while I was there. Would you like to see them?”

  “Presents?” A smile bloomed on her face, an irresistible enchantment that stole his breath. He’d waited all day to see her look at him like that, as though he’d ridden up upon a white charger, ready to fight for her heart.

  But Godric couldn’t trust himself to read that thought in her eyes. He wanted it to be true, but how could she want him? Him, the man who’d taken so much from her?

  “Of course I brought presents. Cedric couldn’t be allowed to have all the fun.”

  He pulled the parcels from his riding coat pocket, and Emily took them. Godric joined her on the bed. She unwrapped the dark purple paper and found the first two items, the brush and the comb adorned with butterflies. The pearl of the butterflies’ wings channeled the moonlight, and the opal gleamed darkly, like the sea at midnight. She stroked a fingertip over the surface of the comb’s butterfly and turned her face towards Godric, not realizing how close he was. Their noses brushed and she smiled before giving him a kiss on the cheek. A butterfly’s kiss, so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it.

  “They are so beautiful. I have never owned anything this lovely. Thank you.”

  Godric flushed. He’d never seen a woman take such simple gifts with such reverence and joy. He could have thrown the Crown Jewels at Evangeline’s feet, and she would not have expressed the same gratitude. The thought humbled him in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

  “I chose them myself. The butterflies reminded me of you.”

  She kissed his other cheek and looked up through smoky lashes. “I remind you of a butterfly?”

  “Yes, you do. They are beautiful, mysterious, alluring, easy to catch if you bring a big enough net…” His voice was low and husky as he gazed at her lips.

  “Godric, I believe you are trying to seduce me.” Her words teased, but the heat in her eyes was no joke.

  “Always, my dear. Always.” His lips were so close to hers. He ached to kiss her, he needed to kiss her. He had to blind her with the light of the fire in his heart just as she’d blinded him with hers.

  “Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” Her question was innocent, but her tone held something more.

  “Not yet.” He pointed to the parcel in her hands. “There is still one more present for you.”

  Emily dug deeper into the wrapping and found the leather collar with the silver engraved nameplate.

  “Penelope,” she read in an excited whisper and leapt from the bed.

  She crossed the room to the small little basket near the vanity table. The puppy was fast asleep, unaware of the world around her. Emily slid the collar underneath and around her neck. She fastened the buckle and patted Penelope’s head before coming back over to Godric.

  “I am sure she’ll be excited in the morning when she wakes.”

  Godric almost laughed. “I imagine she will be.” He stood, taking Emily by the arm.

  “Shall we go to bed, my dear?”

  A flash of panic marred her beautiful face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Emily’s cheeks reddened. “I…”

  But Godric realized her fear and sought to reassure her.

  “We will sleep, and nothing more. I care for you too much to want to do anything but hold you tonight.” From the bottom of his black heart, he truly meant it. Tonight he wanted to reassure her of his honorable intentions.

  Honorable intentions. What madness was this that ran through his soul like quicksilver? Godric was incapable of love. How often had his father told him that? Told him that if he was capable of love, his mother would never have died. Rationally Godric knew his father had tried to ease his own grief by putting the burden of her death on him, but he couldn’t help but agree. Had he been older, or stronger, he could have ridden to town to get the doctor, while Father tended to her. But he hadn’t. He’d hidden in the dining room, his little knees tucked up beneath his chin, listening to his mother’s screams. And then that dreaded silence, how it had pounded against his ears.

  My fault. Always my fault.

  Maybe he was capable of love, but he’d stopped himself because the risk was too great. He’d lost his mother, his father, the sibling who’d never had a chance to breathe its first breath. What if he lost Emily? His insides recoiled at the thought. He mustn’t care for Emily, mustn’t feel anything for her. It was better this way.

  But it was all a lie. He did feel f
or her.

  Strongly.

  Emily’s worries vanished in the wake of excitement as he led her through the adjoining door into his bedroom. He pulled back the covers of his bed but prevented her from crawling in. His hands fell heavily on her shoulders.

  “Let me undress you.” His voice was rich and dark.

  Emily should have refused, but his heavy-lidded gaze robbed her of speech.

  She gazed, it seemed, into the eyes of the captivating marauder-turned-duke of her novel.

  Godric accepted her silence as consent and turned her back to him as he undid her laces. The gown wilted at her feet.

  His fingers deftly untied her stays, plucking them free like a skilled harpist.

  Emily shivered, nervous at the intimacy of being undressed. “Have you had much practice at this, Your Grace?” She realized at once what a silly question it was.

  “You know my reputation, darling.” He continued after her intake of breath. “But I’ve never been so pleased by it before.”

  Emily was certain she would melt into a puddle.

  He leaned forward and kissed her, nibbling where her shoulder met her neck. She sagged helplessly into his embrace. Godric caught her before she crumpled to the floor.

  “Easy. We aren’t done yet.” He pushed her back so that she leaned against the edge of the bed.

  She was down to her chemise and stockings.

  Godric knelt before her and patted his right thigh. “Put your left foot here.”

  She did as he asked, faint with inner hunger as his hands roved up to her thigh, unfastened the garter, and caught hold of the top of the stocking. He slid it down her leg and placed soft, hot kisses on each inch of skin he bared until he freed her foot entirely. Godric then repeated the ritual with her right foot.

  He slid his hands back up her leg and pushed the chemise out of the way so he could lean forward to kiss on the inside of her leg, near her knee.

  Emily shivered. She was not prone to swooning, but when Godric sucked on her skin and flicked his tongue, she wavered.

  “Are you all right?”

  She half-laughed. “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m bound to forget my name…”

  “That’s a sign that I’m doing all the right things,” he teased. “I believe you have had enough for one day. Even I am not so villainous as to demand more tonight.” Godric went back into her room and returned with her night rail. Emily turned her back and removed her chemise, and slid the night rail down over her body. When she turned back around, she found Godric watching her, fists clenched.

  He nodded towards his bed. “In you go, before I change my mind about only sleeping.”

  She slid between the sheets and watched in fascination as he undressed himself.

  “Will I ever get to undress you?”

  He stared back for a long moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Tomorrow night.” He bared his chest, removed his breeches and donned his night shirt. Emily, suddenly self-conscious, slid away from him as he joined her under the covers, but the mattress dipped with his weight and she rolled into him.

  “Now, about that kiss good night.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

  Emily never wanted that kiss to end, the soft movement of their lips, the dance of tongues, the straining breaths shared in the quiet darkness… She could never leave the bed, and forever be content, so long as he kept kissing her.

  Godric molded her body to his as he kissed her with both fire and gentleness. Undressing her had been a bad idea. All he could think about was the taste of her skin, the shivery sighs she made when he removed each piece of clothing. It had been her gift to him, and she hadn’t even been aware of it. Now he had Emily in his arms, kissing him back with her sweet, inexperienced mouth. He couldn’t wait to teach her all the things his years of experience taught him. Would she like it when he put his mouth between her legs? Would she want to do the same to him? For her to torture him in such a way would be glorious. Desperately, he reined in his hunger and focused on her soft insistent mouth meeting his with wild abandon.

  What was it Ashton had told him? Emily kissed him from the depths of her heart.

  Could he do the same? Tonight he wanted to try…

  I missed you today, I thought of nothing else, I…I think I love—

  The last thought had come unbidden, but he was too weak to deny what felt so strong and true. He wanted to claim her, but also protect her. He’d do anything to keep her, just like this. Sweet. Innocent. His.

  Had he, Godric St. Laurent, finally become a fool in love? God help him.

  The gilded grandfather clock in the upstairs hallway chimed seven, waking Godric. The fire crackled, twigs and bits of logs snapping. He lay on his back with Emily, still asleep, curled up against his side. The feel of her in his arms was wonderful. A perfect fit. He wanted to hold her more often, keep her close so he could smell the flowery scent in her hair, relish her satiny skin beneath his palms.

  They could always be like this, he realized. He and Emily could grow old this way, spending years exploring each other. He craved that elusive, impossible future. To want something, to know you could have it, and once you had it, lose it. He wasn’t ready for that, might never be ready. But what could it hurt to pretend, for at least a few days, to have what he wanted? Godric slid a hand under the covers, seeking the edge of her night rail. His fingers met bare skin near her calves, and he slid the fabric up to expose her hips to his hand. Emily’s head twisted a little. She nuzzled his chest, and Godric stifled a groan.

  Seducing this woman was an infuriatingly slow process, but he didn’t dare rush it. He wanted to savor Emily’s first time and know without a doubt she was well and truly pleasured at his hands. He’d become too accustomed to the deliciously rough tumbles during which he unleashed his primitive urges and freed his lover from her own inhibitions, but with Emily that would come later. The question was whether he could he restrain himself that first time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  Godric rolled over onto his side, facing Emily, as he moved his hand farther up to cup the smooth rounded globe of her rump. The satiny skin beneath his palm gave him a small rush. He rubbed his hand up and down over her bottom, enjoying a little purr of sleepy pleasure that rippled from her throat. Godric pushed his hand harder, urging her to press herself against him.

  She stirred, arching her hips into his, allowing his arousal to meet her. “Hmm…”

  Godric rubbed his hips against hers, simulating the pressure and rhythm as if he were actually inside her. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as his erection rubbed against her building wetness. She finally woke. He kissed her open lips, silencing whatever protest she’d been about to make. Emily raised her arms but he trapped them into the pillows on either side of her head as he mounted her. She wasn’t going to escape, not just yet. Godric nudged her knees apart and he slid between her thighs. He paused in his kiss to glance at her.

  “Godric, what are you doing?” Emily asked breathlessly.

  “I’m trying to teach you, at great cost to my personal satisfaction, how it feels to make love.” He kissed her lips again, slowly sliding his tongue in and flicking it against hers before retreating and nibbling on her lower lip.

  “You never give up, do you?” She tried to sound irritated but was already surrendering from need.

  “I’m a St. Laurent. We never give up once we set our minds on having something, and I want you, Emily. I want you desperately. Now lie back and enjoy.” He hoped his firm tone would cow her into submission. Her lips parted, and those dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks. He ground his hips against hers. Emily moaned, a loose, deep wild sound that aroused him beyond rational thought.

  “Do you feel how much I want you? How much I need you, Emily?” He brushed his lips along her jaw down to her ear; he bit her lobe and then kissed the soft sensitive skin behind it.

  “Yes…” Her voice was barely more than a strangled gasp as he ground agains
t her. She arched her back, her legs tightened around his hips.

  Keep control, damn you! But with her next moan, it was almost impossible. He moved against her, and she came apart in his arms with a great cry of surprise. He spent his seed in his nightclothes like a damned inexperienced youth. Emily was limp and gasping for breath beneath him, gazing up at him in wonder.

  Godric tried to calm down, his entire body weak with the rippling aftermath of his release.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “What did you say?” Emily pushed herself up on her elbows. “You’re shaking.”

  She had no idea. He never lost control. What sort of man was he if he couldn’t perform better than a mere boy with his first girl? The Duke of Essex, firing off a warning shot across Emily’s bow. God, if the others ever found out, he’d never hear the end of it. Godric tried to disentangle himself, but he was desperate to hide his embarrassment, and practically ripped himself from her arms. He rested his elbows on his knees, ducking his head to run his fingers through his hair. Emily moved towards him, but he waved her off.

  “Godric, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Go, before the maids come looking for you.” He tried not to sound cold, but failed.

  “Did I… Did I do something wrong?” She reached for him, but he rose and darted over to his armoire to fetch his dressing gown.

  “Godric?” Her eyes welled with tears.

  He cursed silently and came back to her, cupping her face and kissing her tenderly.

  “You were perfect, Emily. It was me. It’s…complicated. Go now and get dressed if you wish.” He traced her lips with a fingertip.

  “You’re not mad?” The catch in her voice made him all too aware how his behavior affected her. She didn’t know anything about men, and she wouldn’t understand he was angry with himself and not her.

  “I’ll be mad if you cry, my little hellion.” He dropped his hands to her waist, tickling her until she was laughing helplessly.

  “All right! All right, I surrender,” she gasped.

  “Now, go on back to your room.” He lifted her off the bed, onto her feet and swatted her rump, urging her towards her door. She went, but looked back at him, her face a mixture of emotions he couldn’t puzzle out. There was curiosity blazing behind her eyes, as though she’d sensed she’d conquered him somehow. God help him if she ever discovered how right she was. He could have laughed. Emily’s hold over him was so potent that he might agree to anything she asked of him. What a horrifying thought that was—to know he was a prisoner to her kiss and touch, when he’d never been anyone’s captive before.